Spanish Homework




Prince William, James I and George III

 
Georgie knew he had Spanish homework last Friday for today. Last night was admittedly a late one after putting these ensembles (above)  together for Jubilee Day at school. He remembered his Spanish homework at about 8:45pm last night, cleary too late so Tyler told him to get up early today:

This was the discussion in the car on the way to school:

Annoyed Father: Did you finish your homework George?
George: No, not really
Annoyed Father What do you mean "not really?". What did you have to do?
George: We had to write a paragragh about an animal with a drawing. I did mine on an eel
Grumpy Mother: Did you find out what 'eel' meant in Spanish?
George: No, not really
Annoyed Father: How can you write a paragragh about eels if you dont even know what they are called?
George: Because the class has to guess what they are after you have read it out to them. It's like a riddle.
Irrate Father: So how would you know what the right answer is? El Congero?
George: Yes, that sounds right
Outraged Father: Or maybe it's El Morayo?
George: Could be
Totally Pissed Off Father: George, how did you write the sentence if you dont even know the Spanish word for eel? Did you just translate it on Google?
George: No I didnt, I didn't use Google, I wrote it
Totally Pissed Off Father: But how could you have? What did you say?
George: I didn't use Google, I used Bobble Fish

All this while dressed up as George III.

Mrs Restell, Prince William & Princess Royal

Things to do with boys

Georgie by Eben Meyers

Last week was a good one with the boys sailing everyday and William at Willows Summer Camp, with field trips to the Airport and Fire Station where he got to spray the hose and go on our one and only fire engine ( a lovely 50’s Richard Scary-type affair). Little Boy Bliss.

I’m not quite sure why we signed up for mountain biking on Norman Island on Sunday, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. So there we were at 6am – me with a slight hangover having only finished the washing up from the night before at 1am. The Channel was very choppy and we were bounced around a bit, the result of a low pressure tropical wave and all thinking that we would rather be home watching Rango.

Big efforts do reap big rewards however, and Norman Island, which is uninhabited and very beautiful, turned out to be a sparkler.  It was calm with lots of shade in amongst the steep climbs, cliff hanging tracks with dramatic views and pure wilderness (Norman Island is the island which RL Stevenson based Treasure Island on).

After action, satisfaction!

The boys rode the Cadet course, with me hiking some of it with William. Georgie, who really struggled in the beginning, went on to cycle almost 6kms and won with James coming in second.  It was a tough course with real mountain biking, and challenging even for the experienced, grown up riders.

In our politically correct culture which tends to hand out medals just for breathing (we are all winners) it was genuinely rewarding for the boys to achieve something they had really pushed themselves hard to do, and we are proud of them. It was a lovely morning, well worth the slog and we still had time for an afternoon snooze and a quick tidy up before Dad got home from cooking for the Caribbean Heads of State.

My long-term abiding impression of Moms Who Only Have Boys has always been of the hearty, jolly hockey sticks persuasion with booming voices and VW Kombi’s loaded full of sporty stuff, cheering on their team.  It's always slightly worried me that I may end up like this one day with a wardrobe exclusively from Cape Union Mart and ruddy cheeks. 

So not me.

But there I was on Sunday in full hiking gear (from you know where) enthusiastically encouraging my little chaps up the hills shouting : “Come on buddy, you can do it, you’re a Star, what a Champ” and shoving bikes and boys into our large 7-seater Ford Freestyle American Soccer Mom car.  Oh dear.

Boys new favourite expression "knackered"

Shoes, caps and sanity

Photo by Ed Childs

I've been reluctant to comment too much on the new found joys of full-time parenting as I still have my big L plates on, but I finally have to say something:

Corporate life had its challenges - impossible deadlines, lovable clients and enough politics to make one feel like the little moonblind owls in Guardians of the Legend. Thinking that I'd be leaving chronic stress far behind me, believe me when I say that it all pales into insignificance when compared to the daily challenge of trying to get three little boys ready & out of the house every morning. 

You think you'd get use to it, but you don't, or at least better at it. I approach this task every day with a mixture of dread and determination. I’ve applied systems, processes, bribery, threats of violence, Oscar-worthy screeching Lady Macbeth monologues and have invoked every saint and occasionally Satan to smite the little darlings down – and nothing NOTHING makes the slightest bit of difference.

Everyday at least one child does not have a water bottle or a hat (we lose a cap a week) or matching shoes . We can never find the right suncream (the one William is not allergic too) but can always find the 10 year old bottle of SPF15 Piz Buin. Inevitably the children are dressed in a peculair mixtures of clashing stripes and checks, to which my general view is as long as it includes a hat, then sod it. 

I cannot understand why it is so hard to co-ordinate 3 sets of packed lunches/3 bowls of oatmeal/3 sets of shoes/caps/the brushing of teeth & hair/feeding a cat, some chickens and a parrot, but it is a seemingly impossible task and quite hard on Madam Type-A-Taurus.

We're all left feeling shell-shocked and full of remorse by 8:30 every morning, vowing to do better the next day.

Until just as you're getting in the car - one child cannot find their hairbrush, one hasn't got a belt on so  he's holding up his shorts (for the rest of the day?) and the cat is doing flic-flacs for it's Ocean Sensations and nobody has noticed. It's like finger on the rocket button, and I'm off into ballistic Lady Mac ranting mode again.

Without sounding too much like Charlie & Lola.... I Absolutely Cannot Wait For My Holidays, which kick off next weekend when we are off to San Juan (yes, I know, another island, but a beeeg one) for 5 days.

I'll be happy to feed the children from the mini-bar all week and they can stay in their pyjamas all day long if they want and watch American TV till their eyes fall out, but I'm determined to have a "Where's-your-hat-waterbottle-shoes-bag-suncream-rashie" Free Week. 

I'll officially be sane again in about 3 weeks, and I'll have my first full year of Parenthood in the bag. In fact we should all be experts by then, just like the corporate world really.